


Sleep Through the Night

by Ranowa



Series: Harry Potter AU [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Bullying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Parental Roy Mustang, Platonic Cuddling, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 17:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18299270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranowa/pseuds/Ranowa
Summary: Some days, it all gets to be too much for Roy.Other days, it still all gets to be too much, but he also happens to be the guardian of two young children who need someone to take care of them, and can't afford for anything to be 'too much'.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> le me: *writes like 200 words a day on one of like five WIPs*
> 
> also me: *writes 8k in one day bc hpau won't leave me tf alone*
> 
> Or, because when I was writing Roy's first year, it occurred to me wow, I'm basically torturing an eleven year old child, and yet he apparently turns into an extraordinarily well-adjusted and normal adult... and thought I should fix that :)
> 
> Also because I want more happy Maes and Roy contents and THIS FANDOM WON'T GIVE THEM TO ME
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <3

It was nearly one in the morning when Maes, at very long last, dragged himself back to his office: stiff, sore, and exhausted from head to toe.

He wanted one thing, and one thing only.

Bed.

_Now._

Maes charmed his door shut behind him without casting a single look, sagging the very instant he was safe in the privacy of his own room. His back hit the wall, sore and numb and worn out all the way through, and in the new, suffocating silence of his office, Maes found himself powerless but to simply stand there, eyes shut, and think, for a long, long time.

The sick fatigue of a day far too long burned in his throat, and for several moments, he really wanted nothing more than to just shut the book on everything that he'd seen and done today, and wake up tomorrow to a new morning.

The stack of papers he'd been intending on grading before bed tonight sat there on his desk, blatant and inescapable and waiting. If they'd had eyes, they would've been glaring at him, because there was not a single bone in his body that had any desire to so much as glance at a single one.

Maes stared miserably at the stack. At least a foot high, god, and if he knew anything about the class that had given him those essays, he'd be up until four to just put a dent in them.

The stack waited on, innocuous as could be.

Maes glared.

And then, something in him simply snapped.

No. He could not.

Not tonight.

Without even the slightest twist of hesitation to prickle at the haze of exhaustion that clung to him from head to toe, Maes waved his wand at it, sending the essays to settle, one by one, down into a desk drawer to be set aside for the entire rest of the night. "Sorry," he muttered to them, one hand wrenching at his tie, the other tugging at buttons as he turned towards the door to his room instead, any and all professional obligations all firmly thrown to the wind to be taken care of any time that was not _tonight._ He kicked his shoes off, then his socks, and if he'd lacked just a little bit more of his already fraying, all but disintegrated self-control, he might've spelled the papers straight onto the floor after them. "You'll still be there tomorrow morning. There is no guarantee _I_ will be, though, if I don't get some sleep in the next five-"

Maes reeled to a halt.

He blinked into his room.

He blinked again.

And then, wane and exhausted still, half keeled over, shoulders and heart all but too heavy to bear, somehow, from even the most tired, stressed, and _done_ depths of his being-

Somehow, for Roy, he dredged up a smile.

"Well, hello there," he said into the dim light of his room, and shut the door behind him with a gentle _click._ "Fancy seeing you here tonight."

The dark, deceptively powerful wolf curled up on the foot of his bed blinked impassively back at him. Despite being somewhat on the smaller side, he still easily took up pretty much the entire bottom half of the bed, and the way he lay there, curled up and silent, almost would've been cute, if not for the silent, far too intelligent eyes that rested on him. The eyes that made it impossible for him to mistake that creature as anything at all but his best friend; the eyes that watched him and, in nights like this one, sheltered some glimmer of pain that no coaxing could ever get him to let go of.

Slowly, Roy tilted his head into the long, expectant silence. His lips pulled back into a low, gentle sort of growl, and his tail gave one impatient thump.

Maes sighed, and, unbidden, his face dissolved back into yet another smile. Half exasperated, and half he-couldn't-even-deny-it fond.

He'd have been lying, if he'd said he hadn't expected this tonight.

Roy didn't shift back, which Maes had not expected, either, did not even unfurl as he just sat there, tail thumping gently now, eyes watching him and waiting. Maes rolled his eyes back, managing another weak grin, but it really was too late and this day had been too awful for him to have the will to tease him with.

Besides, Maes reflected miserably, today really hadn't been all that funny to begin with.

With a heavy sigh, Maes dragged himself over to drop with a _thump_ onto his bed, unbuttoning his cloak for it to float over to the back of his chair but not bothering to undress anymore than that. Another wave of his wand had extinguished the lights out, leaving little more than the faint glow of the stars outside by which to see with, because it was late and Maes was _tired,_ but not quite tired enough to ignore his best friend waiting silently at the foot of his bed.

He'd been missing sleep for Roy since they were eleven, he reflected sadly, and with yet another fond smile that this time, was just a little heartbroken.

It probably wasn't going to change any time soon.

Because Maes would never, as long as he lived, let him be alone.

"You want to know what happened?" he asked, giving the wolf a side-long glance in the dark. It was too dark to see all that well, but he heard the low growl all the same, and again had to swallow a weak laugh, because _of course he does._ "Right," he murmured, reaching a hand out to scratch at his neck.

He didn't exactly melt under his hand, dissolving into a purring, contented ball that he could sometimes tease out of Roy on a very good day, but he didn't pull away, either, and Maes took that as the permission to continue.

He sat quietly for several moments, trying his best to collect his thoughts to be at least a little more coherent than the mess he currently felt like himself. He swallowed back the tightness collecting in his throat with a stubborn grit of his teeth, because that was the last thing either of them needed, and kept on scratching at the wolf's shaggy neck, hoping it calmed Roy as much as it calmed himself.

"Miss Wilson is going to be in the hospital wing for a few days, until Madam Pomfrey's quite sure her head is okay," he explained finally, hand stilling against the wolf at his side. His voice came out sober and grave, and anything more cheerful than that would've been a lie. "After that, it'll be up to Sprout and McGonagall on what happens with her. But I did what I could, and I think she listened to me." He rubbed gently at Roy's neck again, trying to soothe away the deeper growl he knew was coming. "You know she'll try to be fair. As fair as she was with you, Roy. ...and we'll both be there, too. We'll _all_ do what we can."

The wolf hmmed, baring his teeth in the dark, but instead of a growl it was a noise of acquiescence. He nodded once, a distinctly human motion from a creature so obviously not.

And then, after another few moments of thick, uncomfortable silence, his head still down, he shuffled just a little bit closer.

They'd repeated this dance more than enough times, by now, for Maes to take it for exactly what it was: permission.

Now, he allowed his hand to slide from his neck down to his side, petting him there instead, petting him the way he might stroke Elicia's hair or touch a real dog, because if Roy had wanted to be treated like Roy tonight, then he'd have come here as _Roy_.

Not this dark wolf currently curled against his side, head settled down against the bed and ears flat against it to form an exact and miserable caricature of the saddest dog he'd ever seen in his life.

Maes, his heart still in his throat, continued aimlessly stroke the thick fur, hoping to still the shuddering he knew was hidden just underneath and quiet the misery he knew that was hidden just underneath that.

"So tonight," he murmured at length, when the wolf beside him looked just a little less despondent, "the best thing for us to do is both to get some sleep, and look at this with new eyes tomorrow morning. Okay?"

Roy's tail thumped quietly again. This time, he didn't nod.

Maes sighed.

He'd expected all of this, too.

Expected all of it from the moment he'd recognized the young, wild-eyed and tear-stricken girl in his classroom as the same one Roy had mentioned to him, weeks and weeks and weeks ago, and he'd realized _we messed up._

Earlier this term, Roy had happened upon Abigail Jones, a young and shy Hufflepuff who lingered near the back in class, never spoke unless called upon, and never so much as made eye contact unless forced. Roy had found her crying one afternoon, hiding in a stairwell when she was meant to be in class, and sobbing her little heart out instead.

She'd refused to say why.

But Roy had not forgotten his own first year at Hogwarts, and Maes knew exactly what that sight had made him think.

He knew exactly what memories it had called up within him, because that night the very same withdrawn wolf had turned up in Maes' bed as it had tonight.

Roy had tried everything with her, but she'd just _refused_ to talk. No matter what he'd done, no matter how long he'd sat there in that stairwell with her, she just hadn't trusted him. Nor had she trusted Maes, when Roy had tried calling him over in hopes that a professor from her own House might be better.

Still... nothing.

Nothing until this morning, anyway.

This morning, just this very morning even if it now felt all but an eternity away now, Maes had turned his back on his class for one second. Just _one_ damn second. He'd been just going to return to the blackboard, erasing away the instructions for the first half of class to set the chalk writing them out for the second half, instead. He'd been turned away for _just one second_ to hear a thump or something behind him, something that was just innocuous, irrelevant, something _safe_ that just hadn't mattered-

Then, with one a solid, earsplitting crash, everything had tumbled right into hell, and hadn't righted itself since.

Maes had turned around to a stunned, silent, and agape class. One first year, gasping there on the ground, prone amidst the split remains of a desk and clutching at her head- already spouting enough blood to nearly give Maes a heart attack.

And there, straight across from her, had been little Abigail Jones.

On her feet, eyes blazing like fire- and with her wand in hand.

It'd been a long day, after that.

Roy hadn't been involved in much of it; hadn't been allowed to, since he'd witnessed only a single incident months prior, and an incident so horrifically minor, at that, when compared to what had happened today. A first year was in the hospital wing, and her attacker sobbing in Maes' office, crying over and over that she hadn't meant to do it, crying about a girl who'd hit and shoved and cursed and tormented her in the privacy of their room, who'd pulled and cut her hair, a hundred stories that Maes and no one else had ever heard before but once Abigail started talking, she just hadn't stopped and that Maes, gobsmacked, had been helpless but to sit there, struggling powerlessly to calm her quiet, and listen.

The story of how she'd had her chair pulled out from under her in class that day, and next thing she'd known she'd been up on her feet and Jennifer Wilson had been on the ground, bleeding from the head, was just one of a _very,_ very many horror stories that were going to linger in his mind for a very, very long time.

This was the first time Maes had gotten out of meetings with Sprout, McGonagall, and what felt like a revolving door of a dozen others, ever since that morning.

It was a nightmare of a situation, with no right way forward and no easy way for even someone like Roy to worm his way in and fix it. Maybe hadn't been, not in the beginning, but they hadn't fixed it in the beginning and now, it was simply too late. Because on one hand, Maes knew they couldn't support or handwave away one student hexing another into a table so hard she'd nearly cracked her skull. Not when Maes had been there himself to attest to the fact there hadn't been so much as a mark on Abigail. Not when they all knew one girl was busy sobbing in his office, while the other hadn't been able to so much as tell her side of the story, because she was still barely half-conscious and head bandaged up like a balloon in the hospital wing.

But through it all, Maes hadn't been able to forget the look in Roy's eyes, when he'd been called in, and without even a shadow of the doubt, had stood up for the girl.

He hadn't forgotten the stories he'd heard from Roy's own first year.

Roy had fought back against his tormentor once, too. He'd hexed him too, just once.

And from the way Maes understood it, it was just the luck of a few centimeters that hadn't smacked Kimbley's head against a concrete wall instead of a softer bedpost, and hadn't landed Roy in the exact same trouble Abigail was in now.

Maes could not feel right about the luck of a few centimeters, being the difference between a talking to and an expulsion.

And Roy, he knew, would handle that a lot worse than just _not feeling right_ about it.

And that that was the exact reason why he was here now.

Maes closed his eyes tightly, breathing out hard past gritted teeth as he thumped at last back against his pillow, shards of glass scraping in his throat and heart lurching in his chest beyond anything that he could calm down from tonight. The wolf still under his hand stiffened for a beat, just one long second of stillness, but then Maes found himself with an armful of wriggling fur, the heavy warmth and reassuring weight of a canine best friend flopping over his lap, and if it hadn't been so achingly familiar, Maes would've laughed again.

It wasn't funny, though.

Not tonight.

Roy, just... got like this, sometimes. Some terms worse than others; some classes worse than others. Sometimes spurred on by occurrences like this, other times, to Maes' view, for no reason at all.

Sometimes, it got to be too much for him.

What was _it?_ Maes sighed again, scratching Roy's ears even as the wolf growled again, low and deep and just thoroughly _miserable,_ inside and out. Hell if he knew. Because Roy didn't seem to know how to talk about it himself and had never told him; because Maes didn't know how to drag it out of him ad would would never have the heart to try, anyway. Whatever it was that had happened to him in his first year, because Maes still didn't know the half of it, and probably never would. Whatever it was that had turned him into that silent, skittish boy that Maes had first met on the Quidditch pitch, so afraid of people he'd nearly run when Maes had just said hello and that had taken weeks for him to get so much as a smile out of him. Whatever it was that had left him barely eating or sleeping that whole first half of the year, and honestly, not all that better after it, either. The continued harassment that had culminated in a fist fight and two broken noses their fourth year, and a blood-streaked Roy shouting that he would _never_ say sorry in McGonagall's office while Kimbley smirked and Maes begged for him to just shut up. The night they'd nearly been both killed, their seventh year. The war after it, and the things that happened then that had almost torn their friendship apart.

Roy had about a dozen and a half breaking points, and Maes had given up trying to preemptively cauterize them a long time ago.

This was all he really could do for him.

To be there when he broke.

This tended to be how it happened; a jet black wolf, padding over to his office in the middle of the night to curl up on his bed, tail thumping and watchful eyes gleaming, sometimes wondering about to gnaw at his desk legs if he found him still up and trying to work. It had been puzzling the first time, and bewildering the second, but soon, like all of other Roy-related quandaries, Maes had given up trying to figure it out. He wasn't sure if Roy even knew the answer himself.

It just seemed... easier, like this.

That was really just it.

Easier.

Because Roy really _didn't_ know how to talk about these things, but as a wolf, he didn't need to. As a wolf, the complexities of human emotions and human pain were dulled, quieted and made simple by a mind that didn't know how to understand them... and that, Maes could attest tofrom his own experience.

As a wolf, he could sit there and let Maes gently stroke his ears and side, accepting physical contact he had too much pride to as a human. That would've been strange as a human, embarrassing as a human, but as a wolf, was simply normal, and that was that. He didn't _have_ to be able to grasp the turmoil and memories he knew this damn school gave him and put words to it, he didn't have to be able to do anything at all beyond find his way to Maes' office, and let himself be taken care of for perhaps the first time in his life.

After the number of nights Roy had done it and more for him, it seemed only right Maes do it for Roy, too.

"It'll be okay, Roy," he sighed after another long, saddened stretch of silence. "You'll see." He petted his back again, hand drifting aimlessly at first, but when he felt the wolf start to shudder again, tail curling and teeth baring into another growl turned broken with an old pain and an even older self-loathing, he returned his hand to his head, ruffling at his ears to try and make him just _listen_. "It's not your fault. You did everything you could to help her... you _know_ you did. You talked to her and- and, I guess she just wasn't ready to talk to you. But she knew you'd be there to listen, if she ever was. You _tried_ to help her before it got this bad, but you know as well as I do there's nothing you can do to help if a student won't talk to us."

Roy growled again, this time along with a stubborn little shake of his head that he felt more than he saw, the vigorous back-and-forth motion over his stomach. He stayed wordless, just that shake of his head and that same miserable, deep growl, but Maes knew his friend well enough to hear everything he wanted and needed to say but didn't have the words for, and shook his head right back. "What were you going to do, transfigure yourself into a potted plant and sit in her room until you saw something you could report? Go rooting around her head like Hohenheim, and have her never want to look a professor in the eyes ever again when she found out? What were you supposed to do, huh, Roy?"

_I could've tried._

_I should've tried harder._

"You did _what you could,_ Roy. And I know you'll keep on doing it after this. You'll try and support her and do what you can to make sure she's happy here." He stroked the warm, heavy side draped over his lap again, then shook him gently, trying to nudge the wolf out of the stupor he could feel building inside him. "And you know what else?"

Another growl rumbled over his stomach, this time in tandem with a sulky _huff_ as Roy turned his head away. His ears had flattened against his skull again and Maes ran his hand over them, scratching them just the way he knew he liked it even he could never say it aloud. "I know what you're thinking," he said quietly. "And you can stop it, okay?" He continued scratching along his ears, petting his side, letting the tail thump against him without complaint. He took in another shuddering breath, inhaling as deeply as he could and letting it out along with the wave of his own crumbling upset.

"You're not like Slughorn," he told him, tugging on an ear again merely to make him listen. "One student did slip through the cracks. Yeah. That's what happened. And... I know you promised that'd never happen, that there'd never be another _you,_ but... god, Roy, you can't save _everyone._ The entire world is not your responsibility. But even so, what happened, Roy? You stood up for her. You took her seriously, and genuinely tried to help. That's something Sughorn never did for you. You'll keep on doing it in the future- again, something he never did for you. And you know what else, Roy? You messed up with this one... and so you'll learn from it. You'll do better next time. We both will." He continued to scratch a hand against his ears, but when Roy shrunk down, pressing his head against his stomach to curl and hiss and start trembling he let his hand still instead, just resting against the warm fur to try and make his message known.

The growling slowly quieted. The frenetic, impatient _thump thump thump_ of the tail against his side died down, too. He still stayed draped all over him, a massive, furry blanket that was too warm and too wriggly, but he was quieter, now. Finally starting to calm down, in the way Roy Mustangs did when transformed into a fidgety wolf that needed attention and affection as much as a puppy, things never could've so much as tolerated as a human- but here, like this, where it was warm and safe and just the two of them...

Here, he could.

Maes grinned weakly again in the low light, and his hand at last came to a rest against his heavy, warm side.

"You're not Slughorn," he promised again. Just those three words.

Because tonight, those three words were what he needed to hear.

Roy lay silently across his stomach for a long time, head settled on his paws and dangerous teeth still bared slightly again, a continued glower on at the opposite wall that Maes could almost see reforming itself into his friend's characteristic sulk, whenever he got into one of these moods of his and needed to be coaxed, tugged, cajoled, even shoved out of it. Maes sighed again, allowing another silence to settle to give his friend the time to work through it, and returned one hand to idly pet, the other tucked behind his head.

The absurdity of it all just struck him, sometimes. That Roy could somehow sit here on top of him as a wolf, consumed by guilt and self-doubt and regrets, stewing himself into a miserable stupor about how much of a terrible person he was... and meanwhile, the only reason he could be a wolf at all was because of an extraordinary level of self-sacrifice and selflessness just so Maes wouldn't have to be alone with every full moon.

God, Roy had nearly _died,_ trying to learn how to become an animagus for him. The number of times his best friend had stood up for him or crawled into the Shrieking Shack or risked his _life_ for him was unreal and overwhelming; Maes didn't know how he could possibly get it through his thick skull **you are nothing like him** when such a thing couldn't have sounded more incredulous if it tried.

The fact that having something like this happen made him feel this _bad_ should've illustrated the point to him clearly enough.

Because Maes was pretty sure Slughorn had never lost any sleep over Roy, when they were students.

 _It's not your fault,_ he wanted to sigh again, gently scratching Roy's head again, but instead simply allowed himself a bitter, saddened smile.

"You're not perfect, you dumbass," he said instead.

_Stop beating yourself up when you're not the one who hurt anyone. When I missed it, just as much as you._

"You'll do better. You'll be okay."

_Stop hating yourself because some eleven year old sociopath told you to two decades ago._

_Seriously. Stop that._

" _She'll_ do better. _She'll_ be okay."

_I love you, you stupid idiot._

"And no matter _what_ happens, you braindead, stupid _moron_ , you'll _never_ be-"

Roy growled abruptly again, a prickly rumble over his stomach. His friend shifted first, reminding him almost of a young, squirmy Elicia in his arms, pushing upwards to crawl about on the bed, then land upright on Maes' chest so hard it made him exhale hard in one tiny, gasped _oof_. Heavy paws dug down sharp into his shoulders, tail still tickling his stomach, head hanging down for the two to be eye to eye in a silent, impassive staring contest.

Maes, after a startled blink of his own, smirked.

"You want me to shut up now?" he teased, hand lifting up to ruffle his head again even past anther series of annoyed blinks. He got about an inch away from a gentle bop on the nose before Roy growled dangerously back, a deep noise in the back of his throat that culminated into a soft and careful bite at the hand still messing with his hair.

And then, with one quick, friendly lick to the face, Roy jumped to settle himself back down by his side in one loosely curled, warm lump. He didn't shift back, made no sign at all of wanting to go back to his own room- did nothing at all, in fact, besides settle into the most content little ball imaginable, and with one warm, satisfied, cat-like purr, fall completely silent.

Maes smirked warmly again, hand left resting along Roy's back, and pulled the blankets over them both without another word.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the kudos and comments!!!
> 
> this au has become me vague posting about what happened to the elrics before hogwarts without ever saying it and you know. i don't mind it ^_^
> 
> Hope you enjoy more self-indulgent cuddling with wolf Roy!

Roy, elbows on an array of textbooks, stiff back curled, and exhaustion heavy on the mind, settled his head into his hands.

He took in a long, very deep breath.

Then, without any further ado, he thunked his head down onto his desk, and moaned.

As melodramatically as possible, maybe, but still, a moan.

Today really sucked.

If asked why, he wouldn't be able to give a reason. Because there wasn't one, really. If Maes had been there, with his good-natured busybody-ing, and tried to ask him what was wrong, Roy wouldn't have had an answer for him, concise or no.

Some days, it was a hundred little things, each one stacking upwards like a precarious tower, swaying back and forth and needing just the slightest poke to crumble and bury him underneath it.

Some days, it was nothing at all.

He moaned again, even if the sound came out muffled into a mountain of papers, one hand maneuvering numbly around to massage at his temples and the other just clenching pathetically at his desk. His skin crawled like an itch that couldn't be quite be scratched, and as tired as he was, he was really only still sitting out here to begin with because he knew if he dragged himself to bed, it'd only be to spend the next few hours tossing and turning, and bemoaning his very and continued existence.

Roy groaned again.

Days like this, he actually somewhat regretted resigning his commission as an Auror, and with it his right to take a stroll down to Azkaban whenever he wished. Because days like this, he really felt like seeing Kimbley languishing in his own well-deserved cell like the rat he was to be about the only thing that would make him feel better.

It was sheer absurdity, nothing more or less than that. Not even that- just _stupidity,_ he thought, smacking his desk with a frustrated moan, then smacking it again just for the numb pain of it to sting against his palm. What other explanation was there for it? He hadn't had someone whack him in the stomach, rip his aunt's letter up in front of him, or tie him down to his dammed bed in two decades. He hadn't had any actual, concrete _reason_ to turn suspicious of the people who promised to be his friends in, again, _two decades_. And what was the point of being afraid like a helpless child anymore, anyway? Zolf Kimbley was currently busy being driven mad in a five star, exclusive room all to himself in Azkaban, and good fucking riddance, as far as he was concerned. Lucius Malfoy was still a slimy git, except now he was widely recognized as such, and could only bully his way around circles filled with even lower vermin than he was. Arcturus Black was an eccentric, lonely hermit stalking about the Black estate like the whole rest of his horrible family, scaring the rest of polite society off whenever he got bored and decided to buy another aging house elf, just to mount the poor thing's head on the wall.

By all accounts, he was the only one remotely well-adjusted, healthy, and successful, while also not turning into a pretentious prick.

By all accounts, he'd come out on top.

By all accounts, he'd _won._

Yep. He'd won, all right.

Which was why he was sitting here, criminally late into the night in his office for no reason at all, moaning into papers he'd never had any intention of grading, and unable to sleep, because every time he lay down in his bed, he'd jerked straight back up again, back and arms crawling with the feel of being pinned to the mattress and socked in the stomach with a homemade club, and searching for Kimbley's face in the dark.

Because he'd totally won.

The clock ticked on, pounding in his head like an anvil in the otherwise dead silence of his office, and not for the first time, Roy doubted how _well-adjusted_ he really was to begin with.

At last, with a vigorous, defeatist shake of his head, Roy pushed back from his desk to toss the nearest book shut, just for the satisfaction of hearing the muted _thump_ that he rather wished he could've turned into a slam. He stuffed the papers he'd honestly never been going to grade tonight on top of it, affixing them with a dangerous glare to warn _don't you DARE fall on the damn floor_ , and let himself, just for one miserable moment, to imagine slinking his way on down towards Maes' office, burying himself into a ball of blankets, and shutting out everything else to feel better in the morning.

Just for a moment.

But then, it wasn't just for a moment, because now that his mind had turned to it... well- why _not?_ Roy glanced cautiously to his clock again, and was not at all surprised to find it half past one. There was no sensible reason for the boys to still be awake. And Maes' office really wasn't all that far away from his own. What would the harm _be?_ He could ring a house-elf, ask them to keep an eye on them... and for god's sake, it'd only be for a few hours, wouldn't it? Just until morning, and then-

No.Roy shook his head to himself again, baring his teeth to all but growl in frustration, once again, not at the situation, but solely at himself. He simply did not have that option anymore. He'd known accepting guardianship had meant giving this up, at least for a good long while, and there couldn't be even a question about it. He couldn't leave two children unsupervised and alone for the entire night, just to go drag himself off to be petted like some maladjusted, needy teenager.

No matter how much his skin still crawled, and his stomach, sometimes, could still hurt.

Roy rubbed the sleep out of his eyes again, vigorous and demanding, struggling to drag the dregs of himself back together to wake up as much as he could. Worst case, he'd just crawl to his bed in another couple hours when he could barely keep his eyes open, and keep it up until the bad spell had passed and he could make himself function like a dammed normal person again.

Until then, he'd actually get some essays done, and thank himself for it later.

With another rub at his face, this one probably splattering just a little bit of ink on his cheek and even more on his chin, Roy allowed himself no further indulgences than that. He pushed his hair back, yawning past a clenched jaw, and yanked his exhausted attention straight back onto the pile of waiting essays on his desk. The interminable, awful mountain, that was really his own damn fault for assigning two feet on vampires to his most over-achieving class, and once again, cursed his life to hell and back.

He picked up the one from the top, and started reading.

The clock ticked on. His faith in both his own students' intelligence, and his own ability to sleep, dwindled on down. The minutes passed by with an agonizing slowness, and not for the first time, Roy daydreamed about passing out on his own boring assignment.

It felt like it had been a little longer than an eternity, but really had not been all that long at all, when the door to Ed and Al's room creaked open, and into his room inched one very small, reluctant, and quiet Ravenclaw.

"...Professor?"

Something very important for any single drop of patience left in him fizzled, shrunk, and broke.

_Not tonight. Please._

_Please, you two, just..._

_Not tonight._

A quiet stretched on between them, settling in his office like a blanket of dust that made his stomach knot and something disbelieving crawl down his throat. Because he could sit there motionless and pretending he hadn't heard anything all he wanted; that did not erase the boy standing hesitantly in his doorway, it did not erase the unease scratching out on the inside of his skull, and it did not erase the silent expectation that he _do something,_ and _handle this._

Roy swallowed hard again, quieting the turmoil in his throat as best he could. He forced his features to be as perfectly non-hostile as he could, because it really was just a bit too late to try for a genuine smile, and made himself look up.

Ed lingered in the doorway, half inside the room, half not, prosthetic arm hidden behind the door while his magical foot was just visible, toes slipping out from underneath the hem of too big pajamas and head hiding underneath a mess of hair and shadows. He looked about as tired as Roy felt, or perhaps doubled, and something about that was just painfully wrong, on a face so young. His eyes were heavy and red with sleep, braid loose into a tangled bee's nest about his shoulders and pale blue, starry pajamas wrinkled and knotted nearly beyond all ruin. So he'd actually been asleep, for once, not sneaking his textbooks under the covers to read them with Al until they passed out onto them.

Roy would've thanked the heavens for the miracle, if it wasn't so obvious that it had been terrible short-lived and ended badly, based off the look on his student's face alone.

He sighed. Again.

"Yes, Edward?"

Ed hesitated still, sleepy eyes flickering off him back into the darkness of his room, then back. He inched a little bit away from him, like he was rethinking the entire venture to begin with, and the look on his young face melted from hesitance to something that was almost shame. "It's..."

"Yes?"

"It's-" Ed stopped again, voice wavering as he bit his lip. He glanced from Roy to the door then back again, fingers digging against the wall, then fiddling with the buttons on his shirt in an undeniable expression of hurt.

"...it's nothing."

God. Not tonight. He did not have the patience for this tonight.

"Ed, I-" he sighed again, leaning forwards across his desk.

But the first year only shook his head harder, hair cast over his eyes even as his face fell and his shoulders slumped, already starting to withdraw straight back into his room. "No, I-" He shrunk back another step further, clinging to the door, so clearly wanting nothing more than to hide for the entire rest of the night and making a small, apologetic sound in the back of his throat so tiny it was heartbreaking. "'m sorry for bothering you. Night, Profe-"

"Edward."

The first year, already turned to push himself on back into his room with a downturned head and downcast eyes, froze. His fist tightened again around the edge of the door and for a beat, he looked so withdrawn and unsettled, Roy almost wanted to hug him.

It was quite clear he was not the only one having trouble sleeping tonight, and, more than that, it was inescapably obvious what the right way for Roy to handle this was.

He let out another long, grating sigh, clenching his jaw into silence and forcing himself to just breathe, in and out, in and out. Then, as calmly as he could, he tilted his head back up to look at Ed, and waved for the boy to come closer. This time, he did not have to try and force an insincere smile, because a genuine one was there, trying to soothe the wariness that clung about him like a second skin to ease away.

Ed was far too young for him to even think about burdening him with his problems- accidentally or not. So if being a prickly ball of upset and nerves was enough to key Ed into realizing something was wrong, and keeping his own problem quiet as a result, then, well, he'd just have to tell that part of him to lick his wounds in private for once, and wait until they could be fixed without taking priority over his two charges.

Ed was clearly still hesitant, and that was putting it mildly; skittish and withdrawn in the way that no first year should be, that Roy had promised no first year would ever be again, but his hurts had come before this school and he was doing what he could to fix them. And when the first year met his eyes for another closer look, Roy was ready for it, ready and waiting, and this time when Ed searched him with narrowed eyes, there was nothing deceitful or otherwise suspicious there to give him cause for alarm.

This time, some of that wary, familiar fear in his eyes quieted, and he at last dared to draw forwards again. Unsettled step by step, shadows under his eyes- and arms wrapping around his stomach like a protective shield from the world.

A protective shield that Roy knew very, very well, from his own personal experience.

His mouth turned bitter, and a wave of visceral discomfort nearly made him shiver on the spot.

But this was not about- _could not_ be about- him.

"What's the matter, Ed?"

Ed opened his mouth and shut it once, no words coming out at all, instead shifting in his seat as if it was as prickly and uncomfortable as a cactus and breaking his gaze to stare at his feet. He tugged once at his hair, making another small, aborted attempt at words, and Roy sighed again. He couldn't help but wonder if a plate of McGonagall's biscuits would help him win over hesitant students the same way they'd helped win over him, so long ago, because he still wasn't all that great at being comforting and coaxing students to trust him, and right now, with someone as stubborn as Ed, he really could use any help that he could get.

"Ed," he started at last, when it became very clear that Ed did need someone else to be the one to start. "I'm sorry."

The boy scowled faintly in his seat, gaze still lingering against his knees but it was familiar, now, a distinctive and stubborn pout that was a relief, because that coaxed them back onto familiar ground, and that was what Roy needed. "Truly, I am," he went on, leaning forwards a little more. "I'm tired and today's... been a long one, to say the least. But, if you don't want to tell me now, it's going to be a much longer one for the both of us, if I'm up worrying about whatever it is that you wouldn't say, and you're up worrying about whatever it is you couldn't tell me." He paused again, smile softening away into something smaller, a little ball of regret and sorrow tightening in his stomach when Ed simply continued just watching the floor, hugging himself and silent. "Ed, whatever it was was clearly enough to get you in here. If it was enough to get you in here, then it's clearly worth saying."

The Ravenclaw hesitated a moment longer, face slipping further into an almost petulant pout. He glanced back over his shoulder, just a little, just the slightest hint of a turn back towards his room in a move that all but confirmed exactly what this was about, to Roy.

And at last, something within him hardened.

"...it's my brother," he murmured, two steady, worn eyes finally making contact. They were confident and sure, no matter the wariness he knew still lived within him. "He had another nightmare. You-. ...I know you said we shouldn't, but he's..." His jaw tightened visibly, another hard shudder of anguish and guilt and so, so _many_ other things trembling down through his small form, so many other things that shouldn't be in a child that young, and the shine of his eyes turned from hard to brittle, like cold, fragile glass. "Can we have some more of that potion? ...Please?"

...ah.

A worn, painful lump squeezed its way tight into his throat. His hands curled underneath his desk, and once again, his stomach clenched with hard, acidic guilt.

Ah, yes.

Of course that was what this was about.

 _That_ potion.

Roy had a small reverse of Calming Draught in his office- had been sure to keep a small stock of it kept securely in his desk for years. Before, purely for nights where he'd been unable to sleep himself, and been too embarrassed to cart himself off to Hughes over it. For nights when Hughes had been sick and twitchy about an upcoming full moon, or particularly bad mornings after it when Roy needed to treat a gash or vicious bruise and hadn't wanted for him to be fully awake through it. For nights after he'd taken in Ed and Al, when it'd have been flagrantly irresponsible of him to drug himself to a dreamless sleep- but now had one very wary and upset ten year old who could use it instead.

So far, Roy had managed to keep the exact name and ingredients for the fourth-year level potion quiet, and had taken to asking Madam Pomfrey for stores instead of brewing it himself. He was pretty sure the instant Ed got a lead as to how, he would set about trying to brew some himself.

Suffice it to say, a rash and daring eleven year old having unlimited access to a potentially addictive sedative would not, exactly, have been all that brilliant an idea.

Which was another reason why Roy had taken to hiding the potion, and, more recently, been reluctant to hand it over to begin with. Because while Al certainly wasn't lying about how badly they'd needed it- god, from what Roy knew about their childhoods, they _both_ could've used some, some nights- it would do no good to give Al this crutch now, and not allow him to cope and recover on his own.

Roy had had to learn how to cope on his own, for weeks and months after he'd moved out of Kimbley's room but still sat up late until the night, hugging himself and trembling under the blankets because _what if._ And while it wasn't the same thing, what he'd gone through and what those boys had gone through, it wasn't even _comparable,_ the levels of suffering-

Al would have to learn the same thing, too.

Just... tonight, though.

God.

Why, _tonight._

Roy swallowed hard again, willing back the tired, exhausted ache that felt as if it was lining his skull, inside and out. He glanced across his desk again to Ed, the boy small and hesitant and so very, agonizingly _hopeful._

Once more really wouldn't hurt, would it? Just once more, because Al actually _did_ need it- just for the night, and next time Roy would be sure to do the right thing, the responsible thing, but tonight... tonight...

Roy took in another trembling breath, shivering in his own seat and forcing himself calm. He could hear Maes' voice, just there in the back of his head, browbeating him into responsibility even while he knew his real friend would've taken one look at him and gently tucked him into bed like the overbearing parent he was before seeing to Al himself. His hand wavered against his desk drawer again, stomach still knotting and guilt prickling down the back of his neck.

And then, with a tired wave of something like finality, Roy shook his head to himself, and dropped his hand.

"Later, Ed," he assured gently, rising up from his desk with exhaustion and soreness and a fatigue both mental and physical, but he made sure to smile again, just for him, and crossed around to the other side to offer his hand. "If he really needs it."

The boy pouted again, sullen now and glaring, but it was an innocent one, the petulant stubbornness of a child and nothing more. He knew if it had been up to Ed, there wouldn't have even been a question about it, but- well, that was why they didn't leave these things up to eleven year olds, wasn't it?

With another sulky sort of huff, Ed reached up to slip his magical hand into his. The material was cool and smooth, and fell free straight after Roy had helped tug him up to his feet, but the pout had collapsed straight into the genuine concern, worry, and love waiting underneath, and that was enough to keep Roy going.

It was a concern, worry, and burden that Ed was too young to have to bear- and that, Roy was determined, he would not have to any longer.

Ed led the way into the dark of their shared bedroom, back already turned on his own bed across the room as if was just a fact of life. Roy was not surprised by this; nor was he surprised how he crossed over to Al's bed instead without even the slightest sense of a second thought. He crawled into it in the dark, hopping up to curl under blankets and pillows like it was just as natural as breathing, Roy left alone across the room as sat himself firmly right by his brother's side.

And- there he was.

Al.

Just where he'd expected.

Al was huddled up under a massive bundle of blankets, so small underneath them he was all but invisible, just a little ball under as many layers as possible to press himself securely into the corner. He was surrounded on all sides by walls and pillows and blankets, and, now, a very overprotective Ed on his left side, just as despondent as his brother but fierce-eyed and glowering while Al was small and trembling, Ed watching him like an overprotective guard dog while Al's eyes searched desperately anywhere but him. It was too dark for him to see very much of any of it at all, certainly from this distance- but Roy didn't have to be close enough to see to know Al's face was wet, and his eyes, distant with tears.

That sight alone was all Roy had to see, to cast away any troubles of his own to bury them permanently away for the night, and focus all of himself that there was onto Ed and Al.

"Hey," Roy murmured quietly, crossing the room to kneel down next to the bed, just in front of Al. He may not have been a natural at this, not like Hughes, but he was learning, as best and as hard as he could. "You want to talk about it?"

Al shook his head once, hard and fast and trembling even more. This, too, was not a surprise. Al didn't talk about it. Not when surrounded by people like this. He'd managed a few times, when it was just Roy, and he was sure he'd done it with Ed so much more, but when it was the both of them here like this? Never. Roy imagined spilling out something so personal and private to what had to feel like an audience wasn't easy, and while Al was going to have to find a way to talk about it someday, tonight, and like this, was not that time.

"Okay." Roy patted the edge of the bed in lieu of finding a lump in the blankets that was a limb or a foot, gingerly settling himself to his knees and, even in the dark, making sure to smile. "Do you think you could get a little more sleep?"

Al shook his head once, a vigorous, angry snap of his head with a wet hiccup at the end, and Ed glared again next to him, a silent _I told you so_ heavy and stubborn on the air. Roy ignored this, focusing still only on Al as he gently moved a little closer again, testing the air and trying to see just how jumpy and scared Al was tonight.

He didn't flinch away, and that, he supposed, was as good a sign as any.

"Okay," Roy assured gently again. "Let's see if you still feel like this in a little while, then. I'll get you something to help later if you do, I promise- but for now, let's see if you can't manage on your own for tonight."

The boy stiffened again, eyes gleaming wetter and even more hurt than before, face twisting into something almost distraught, and it was just undeniable, what his answer was. It was so clear that he wanted nothing more than to say _no._ He wanted nothing more than to turn into his brother's arms and have a silver bullet appear right in front of him, to be able to silence everything right then, right now, and run from the demons he was too scared to fight until he could hide from them instead by the light of day.

But he was too scared to say as such aloud and argue back.

Part of Roy hurt, to know he was, in a way, taking advantage of that fear. Part of Roy was sick with guilt and wanted to apologize right then and there, to squeeze Al's shaking shoulders and summon the potion that he wanted right from his desk to fix all of this in an instant. To make Ed smile and sag with instant relief, and get tearful, broken, desperate gratitude from Al, and end all of this right now in the easiest way that Roy knew how.

And the rest of him still knew that wasn't the right thing to do.

"I promise," Roy said once more, meeting Al's eyes and refusing to look away until he was doubly sure those words had gotten through. "If you don't feel any better later on tonight, I'll get something that'll help. This is just for now, Al." He paused, hesitation curling his tongue, and he glanced between the two brothers again, one glowering and upset, the other trembling and dead silent. "You know? Before Ed came and got me, I couldn't sleep tonight, either."

Al sniffled several times again, all but silent underneath the suffocating layers of blankets. He hunkered down a little more still, mouth now hidden beneath the outermost quilt, rocking gently back and forth to the corner, then tilted his head with a jerky twitch to rub his eyes dry on his shoulder.

"W-why?"

Roy smiled gently, easing himself onto the very edge of the bed to toe at his shoes, then settle his wand down onto the bedside table. It was rather silly, at this point, to even pretend he could even think of going somewhere. "Someone I knew, when I was your age. I lived with him for a while, when I was at school. He wasn't a very nice person." Roy knew Kimbley was in no way comparable to what Ed and Al had been through, but now, with Al watching and listening with rapt attention, holding as quiet as he could even through hitched breaths and tiny hiccups, was not the time to insist that. "I couldn't sleep at night all that well for a long time after that."

The brothers glanced to each other again, some of Ed's harsher edge fading while the panic shadowing Al's eyes seemed to only get just a little bit worse. The boy rubbed his eyes again, and when he spoke, his voice had gone even smaller than before. "So it-. ...It doesn't get... better."

Roy, still settled cautiously on the edge of the bed, paused again. Something clenched tightly around his heart, and pulled it up to squeeze straight into his throat.

"No," he said softly, and risked shifting back just enough to rest a hand gently down on a lump that he was pretty sure was Al's foot. "It doesn't ever _go away._ " He smiled, first to him, and his despondent, helpless eyes, and then, back down to Ed.

"But it does get better."

Then, just as he had done so many times before, Roy shifted straight into his animal form. The transition was as seamless as he could make it, gentle on the outside even while still jarring on the inside, and then he slipped carefully down onto the floor, pacing about in a few tight circles to get re-used to his new limbs before rejoining the brothers back on the bed.

 _Now,_ he thought, staring hard between the two once again. _Let's try and sleep._

_All of us._

It didn't take very long for them to find what had slowly formed into a normal, for them; a normal for a maladjusted adult and two traumatized children trying to find their way. He curled up again along the edge of the bed, ensuring to leave plenty of room for Ed and Al, nudging his head gently against a blanketed foot or a hand, and lying patiently to wait.

It never took all that long for them to give in.

Al soon settled his way into the middle, a newer development, one that had come along with his trust, still buried deep into the blankets while his brother curled up on his other side. Small hands found their way over to clutch and to pet, sometimes two, sometimes more; drawing on reassurance and security and all the safety that Roy knew how to give. Maes petted his back and stroked his ears and ruffled his head to calm _him_ down, while Ed and Al pressed against him to calm themselves, cuddling against him in a way they'd never quite been able to trust another human enough for, but could at least trust an oversized dog.

It may not have been entirely healthy. It may not have been a normal that nearly anyone else could understand. But it was the best that Roy could try, and it was the happiest that he knew how to help them be, and, more than anything else, he knew that it helped them.

That was all he could do.

* * *

So with that, all three of them- bundled up together into a warm hug of thick blankets, arms, and dog, uneasy or not, unsettled by memories that refused to be soothed or not-

All three of them slept through the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next time!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 (with Ed and Al) will be up whenever I proofread it and am satisfied. So, hopefully, real soon!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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